


Lost

by Left_Handed_Rick



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Creepy Fluff, Depression, M/M, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 11:09:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13165683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Left_Handed_Rick/pseuds/Left_Handed_Rick
Summary: Rick plays piano while swimming through an ocean of thoughts.





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> This amazing artwork is a commission from @the-mr-lolipop-things on tumblr who also selected the accompanying song for this track.

Rick’s long arms stretched around Morty’s frame. His fingers plucked a steady tempo of sounds from the instrument before him. He felt the warm press of a body next to his, and discovered the sweet notes of vanilla and cinnamon as he breathed in the scent of the brunettes hair.

Although he had filled the room with music, Rick had been silently drowning in the depths of his own thoughts. His most faithful mistress, self-hatred, reminded him of his own intelligence; of the irrationality of his own depression. Meaning and emotions were highly contextual, and deeply subjective at best.

By the same admission, Rick considered, being a  _self-aware_  depressed alcoholic changed nothing. If anything, the notion of self-awareness caused more anguish in the implication that he had chosen to wake up feeling like a piece of shit.

The feeling of exhaustion made him apathetic, and Rick hated even more than his depression the indifferent person he became when he couldn’t bring himself to care. He self-medicated with a cocktail of chemicals contained in his flask, and did his best to swallow the  _meaningless_  thoughts of self-hatred and worthlessness that continued to rise.

He knew alcohol wouldn’t help on days like this.

He drank anyways.

It was an easier effort to aimlessly pursue his self-destructive addictions than pursue the damage control required to take his own life with peace of mind.

He leaned into Morty, continuing to test the waters of his thoughts. Rick was unsure if he should consider this person his anchor, or his North Star as he chased such siren songs to the bottom of a bottle. Rick apathetically tossed the metaphor from his mind, continuing to play.

 

***

 

Morty had only seen Rick like this on few occasions. Unlike the belligerent drunk his grandfather had a tendency to become when he consumed excessive amounts of alcohol. Rick remained unsettlingly quiet, fixated on the piano. 

Panic fluttered in Morty’s chest. He was unsure how to reach out to him.  

Morty studied Rick’s features, searching the sickening cobalt blue depths of his eyes. He imagined them as an ocean; gentle waves ebbed and flowed across the surface while beneath, the cold waters of vast and unknowable depths stirred.  

For some time, Rick had been staring at something far beyond the music he played. He was lost within his those depths, having traveled too far without his partner. 

Morty yearned for Rick to return. 

He called out the scientists name within a quiet kiss.  

 

***

 

Rick felt the soft brush of lips calling him to the surface.

It was so achingly tender. The kiss, motivated by the simple desire to reach out and know the existence of another person. Morty had placed his entire being into the press of his lips, and the touch rippled into swirling storms within Rick’s mind. 

Morty had earlier rejected such an idea, Rick reminded himself, surely this was a different kind of kiss. A different meaning. 

His self-hatred reminded him that meaning was highly subjective and contextual at best. Rick pulled Morty closer, and deepened the kiss, hating the indifferent person who allowed himself to aimlessly pursue another addition.


End file.
